One Good Reason
by scarylolita
Summary: The whole mess with the darach is over and Derek Hale has fled Beacon Hills, claiming he didn't have a reason to stay. Stiles can't help but feel like something is missing and he doesn't quite know why. Sterek.


**Teen Wolf © Jeff Davis.**

**So, I finally wrote my first TW fanfiction and I definitely have more to come! **

* * *

_In a dream I was a werewolf _

_My soul was filled with crystal light _

_Lavender ribbons of rain sang _

_Ridding my heart of mortal fight_

Cocorosie

**1.**

'Shit,' Stiles inwardly curses at himself for being forced to take the public bus. It's overcrowded and the bad smelling hobo sitting next to him keeps trying to feel up his leg. Oh, how he'd give anything to have his old jeep back. Dents and all. Grocery shopping is a much more pleasant experience without this kind of suffering.

He feels the stranger's hand inch up his thigh one more time and he doesn't hesitate to smack it away like he is swatting a fly. "You don't know me like _that_!" he exclaims, shooting a look of disbelief at the man who is most likely trying to get a rise out of him. He laughs, the sound comes out in rasps and Stiles gets an unfortunately potent whiff of bad breath drenched in liquor. It's only noon, for fuck's sake! Who drinks this early in the day? Stiles frowns as the thought crosses his mind. His father drinks early sometimes. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, shaking the bad thoughts away and forcing them to the back of his mind where he likes to keep them. It's easier that way.

Across from him is an old lady with a few too many shopping bags and Stiles wants to laugh at how ridiculously cliché this is. You meet the weirdest people on the bus. That's a fact.

His jeep still isn't repaired from when he crashed into that damned tree a couple weeks back while trying to find Chris, Melissa and his father. Fortunately that whole ordeal is over, but everyone is still in cautious recovery mode. Stiles can't really blame them. He is still reeling over it, too. He can still recall how bad he felt when he thought Derek was dead. It was like his heart fell into the pit of his stomach.

Of course, Derek didn't die. He lived, but after the incident with the darach was over he fled Beacon Hills. Stiles had a feeling he would leave. How like Derek. He lost Erica, and then was forced to kill Boyd. He dated an evil monster and got beat up for about the millionth time. He's no longer an alpha, but Scott is and he's still getting used to it. He'll use his powers for good, though. Stiles is sure about that. But even though everything seems to be getting back to normal, Stiles can't help but feel like something is missing.

'Maybe it's Derek?' he wonders to himself. He can't seem to push the question away, though it makes him feel stupid. They were never obvious about it, but they both had conflicting feelings towards one another. Stiles wasn't sure if it would have lead anywhere, but he often caught the werewolf staring at him.

When Stiles returns home, he brings the grocery bag of vegetables into the kitchen.

"What's for lunch?" Mr. Stilinski asks.

"Vegetable stir fry," Stiles declares with a grin, watching as a grimace spreads cross his father's face.

* * *

**2.**

Friday detentions are the worst punishment! "Dad?" Stiles shouts upon returning home from another one of his later ones. No answer. He turns the corner and finds his father sitting in the kitchen with a half empty cup of whisky. The sheriff has always had a drinking problem, ever since his wife died. He drinks because it is easier than facing the truth. It's easier than remembering that Claudia is dead and that Beacon Hills is a beacon for such horrific things. These days, Stiles can understand it. There are nights he drinks until he's tired enough to sleep because otherwise he knows he'll stay up late and unpleasant thoughts will attack his mind, making it impossible to get a decent rest.

"Hey, Stiles," he greets his son, smiling warily at the small teenager.

"Dad," Stiles smiles in return. He wanders towards the kitchen table and puts the cover back on the bottle of whisky. "How are you?"

His father takes his glasses off, setting them on the table and rubbing his eyes. "I should be the one asking you that," he says.

Stiles shrugs. "It's been weeks since the darach incident. I'm fine."

"Are you?" his father pries. "Are you sure there isn't anything else on your mind?"

"I'm sure, Dad," Stiles insists. "I'm going to hit the hay in a bit," he announces, leaving the kitchen and retreating to his bedroom. He lets out a sigh and stares out his window. The full moon is at its peak tonight, it's a bright and giant orb in the dark sky. Stiles can't help but wonder if there is anyone out there struggling to control themselves. Scott doesn't need to worry about things like that anymore and, in turn, it's one thing Stiles has to worry about. Embarrassingly enough, apart from school Stiles has been spending most of his time gaming on his computer.

He strips out of his day clothing, throwing on his pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He turns around and lets out a girlish shriek upon noticing a dark figure standing in the corner of his room.

"_Stiles_?" he hears his father yell from downstairs. "Are you okay?"

"It's nothing, Dad!" he shouts. He stares back at the tall man and his heart jumps. "D-Derek?" he stutters almost hopefully. The werewolf takes a step forward, but says nothing. He looks stern and cold as ever. "When did you get back?" Stiles asks, whispering the question. His heart races and he feels a flush creep across his cheeks when he remembers that Derek can hear his excitement.

"I'm just passing through," he says evenly.

"Why?" Stiles' voice cracks. "Why can't you just stay?"

"I don't have a reason to."

Stiles' heart sinks at that. "You don't have a reason to go, either… The darach… it wasn't your fault. Boyd and Erica... Nothing that happened was your fault."

Derek's jaw tightens and Stiles can tell he doesn't believe it. He still blames himself. Stiles takes a few steps forward and places a palm on one of Derek's stubbly cheeks, letting his fingers ghost across his face. "Yes," Derek says knowingly, "I'm real."

Stiles lets out a short laugh. "Sorry," he whispers. "I just – It's been a while." He lets out a breath and goes to take a step back, but Derek grabs his wrist.

"I'll stay," he starts, "if you give me a reason to. A valid reason."

Stiles flushes. "Isaac and Scott…" he says weakly.

"Isaac doesn't need me and neither does Scott," Derek says.

"B-but…" Stiles pauses, closing his eyes. "Maybe _I_ need you," he quietly admits.

Derek's grip on his wrist loosens before he lets go altogether. With eyes still shut, Stiles feels Derek's lips against his a moment later. It's a soft and careful kiss, but Stiles thinks it's perfect.

As things get more heated, they stumble towards the bed. Derek gently pushes Stiles onto the mattress and kisses him once more, allowing his hand to move beneath the teenager's cotton t-shirt.

"I…I'm a virgin," Stiles says quietly.

"Good," Derek murmurs.

Two minutes later has Derek and Stiles pulling each other's clothes off. Five minutes later and their warm bodies are pressed together. Seven minutes later and Stiles feels fingers. After that –

"Ah…" he whispers, closing his eyes at the painful sensation.

And this is precisely when Stiles' father chooses to check up on his son. The door swings open and before Derek and Stiles can try and make themselves decent. Stiles lets out another high pitched shriek and Derek simply halts. Mr. Stilinski pales severely and shields his eyes with his hand.

"Yeah, okay," he deadpans. "Gotcha. Leaving now." He doesn't hesitate to leave the room and once the door is shut, he calls, "Stiles, you have a lock on your door for a reason."

Stiles lets out a groan. "How the hell didn't you hear him walking up the stairs?" he whispers in horror.

"I was _preoccupied_," Derek says, as if the answer is obvious.

* * *

**3.**

"It was nice," Stiles says afterward. "Apart from my dad, that is…"

Derek smiles faintly. It would be memorable, that's for sure.

"So," Stiles starts, "is this enough of a reason for you to stay?"

"Yeah," Derek says. "I think it definitely might be."

Stiles grins. "Well, on the bright side at least I won't have to think up a good way to tell my dad I might not be completely straight." He sits up and throws his clothing back on. "I should probably…" he trails off.

Derek simply nods and Stiles leaves the room, wandering down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Dad?"

"So," Mr. Stilinski starts in a deadpan, crossing his arms. "You're gay?"

"I, uh…" Stiles trails off. "I told you last year that I might be!"

Mr. Stilinski rolls his eyes at his son. "I thought you were kidding."

To be honest, Stiles wasn't _truly_ defending his gay potential. He just wanted to get out of yet another sticky situation he and Scott got themselves in. "Well," he shrugs, "I guess I'm hetero-flexible."

"Did it have to be Derek Hale of all people?" Mr. Stilinski sighs, severely questioning his son's taste.

Stiles just smiles sheepishly. "He's a good guy," he promises. He knows Derek is probably upstairs listening to the entire conversation.

"I assume he'll be staying the night?"

"Er, maybe?"

They keep the father-son chat short and sweet and for that, Stiles is very thankful. There is no awkward sex talk or any of that, though Stiles has a feeling his father will probably be chuckling about this with Melissa McCall. The two have been close ever since the darach incident. Stiles shrugs it off for now. He'd deal with the embarrassment later. He was too happy to think about anything else right now.

Upstairs, Derek is still lying in his bed. Stiles lies down next to him and asks, "Were you listening?"

"I was," Derek admits. "So, you think I'm a good guy?"

"You _are_ a good guy," Stiles says. "You're just a little rough around the edges."

Derek chuckles at that. His lips graze over Stiles' shoulder before placing an open-mouthed kiss on the crook of his neck.

"I don't think I want to be bitten," Stiles says. "Peter asked me once."

"Did he?" Derek murmurs the question.

"But… if it's you, then maybe I wouldn't mind," he admits.

Derek smirks at that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Someday, maybe.

* * *

**4.**

It is morning time now. With a fresh cup of coffee, Derek walks into Stiles' bedroom, where the teenager is still only half-conscious, just a head of brown hair poking from beneath the thick duvet. How cute. Derek sits on the corner of the bed and sips his coffee. Black, just the way he likes it. Mr. Stilinski offered him a cup after the protective warning. _If you hurt my son_… Blah, blah, blah. He expected nothing less from the Sheriff.

Stiles lets out a soft, tired moan and pulls the covers down to his waist. "Derek?"

"Yeah?" Derek smiles. Not one of those leering, teeth-bearing grins that most people in his life are so unfortunately accustomed to seeing, but a real and genuine smile. It is a smile that no one gets to see except for Stiles.

They aren't going to say the L word. Not yet, so instead Stiles grins. "Good morning."

**- End -**


End file.
